Up & Out - Ariella Papa [65]
“No, Mom, it was because we got taken over by a bank.” So this is a lie—but it’s sure to be more palatable to my mother. I made the mistake once of telling my mom that my day started at ten o’clock; I don’t think she ever believed me, but rather tried to justify my irresponsibility.
“Remember when you worked at the bank, sweetie?”
“Yes.” What was she getting at? I worked there in high school and the summer after my freshman year. I was a teller. The only benefits of that job were that I was able to make car payments and that I realized I didn’t want to ever do anything that involved money. Ever.
“Well, maybe you should think about getting into a field like that. You know, one that’s more secure.”
I count to ten before I speak again. I stare down at my painted toenails, remembering that the first pedicure my mother ever had was last summer when she came to visit me. She giggled the entire time.
She is never going to change. She thinks of working in a bank as a “good job.” On the other hand, whatever she imagines I do is flaky—and therefore always cause for concern. I haven’t told her that I moved back in with Tommy.
“Mother, I’m not going to change careers. And I don’t want you to worry or to make Dad worry. I’m going to be fine. I have two months’ severance. It’s as if I’m working but I’m not. Get it? I’ll be getting money, but I won’t have to work.” Saying this to her makes me feel slightly better about the whole thing. If I keep having to convince people that it isn’t so bad, I might be able to convince myself.
“Okay, honey. So, when are you going to start looking for another job?” I haven’t developed a plan, but the one I come up with on the spot sounds pretty good.
“I’m going to enjoy two weeks doing stuff that I never get to do, like errands and hanging out in the city. Then, I’m going to visit Lauryn in Martha’s Vineyard, then—”
“Is she still separated from her husband?”
“Actually, they’re divorced. It was final a couple of weeks ago.”
“Oh.” Victory. I may be twenty-seven and washed-up career-wise, but I’m sure my mom is grateful that I haven’t gotten a divorce. I’ve got some things working on my side. “So what is happening with the apartment?”
“Nothing, I’m still here.” More lies, but I think sometimes you have to lie to your parents to keep them calm.
“Well, I tried calling your apartment and the line was disconnected.” Now I have Sherlock Mommy all of a sudden. Next thing I know, she’ll be telling me that Esme is based on her. Luckily, I am ready.
“That’s because I figured I could save some money by just using my cell phone. I get free nights and weekends and cheap long distance. In this day and age there’s little need for a land line.” I’ll confuse her by talking technology.
“Oh, okay. Well, let us know if you need anything or if you want to visit at all now that you have time.”
“Okay, I will. Bye, Mom.”
“Take care, honey.”
I love my parents and I miss them, but at times like this I’m glad I don’t live near home anymore. I think their concern would make me crazy.
On Wednesday, I actually go out of the house and walk down to the Union Square farmer’s market. I usually go on the weekends when it’s packed, so it’s cool to get there when I can actually move around and sample cheese and bread. I get a bunch of chili peppers and decide to make Tommy some white bean chili when he gets home.
Foolishly I touch my eyes after I cut up the chili. I am trying to flush my eyes out under the sink when my cell phone rings. For some reason I answer it even though my eye is stinging out of control.
“Rebecca, it’s your father.” He is screaming into the phone.
“Hey, Dad, what’s up?” I try to wipe my eye with the back of my hand.
“Your mother told me to call you on this phone because you don’t have a real one.”
“This is a real one.”
“I heard you got fired.”
“That’s right—um, laid off.” Why, why, why did I forget not to touch my eye?
“Well, I just want you to know that if you need anything, your mother and I are here to help. We can help you with your phone bill, groceries, whatever.”
“Well, thanks,